


Caught Off Guard

by Takinganotherstep



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Tribe Twelve
Genre: A rare fic with HABIT bottoming because I need more of that content, And when in doubt make it yourself, Basically if non-con/dub-con isn't your think don't touch, Bondage, I don't know how to do tags on NSFW work only regular fics send help, M/M, Non-con bordering on dub-con kinda, Pretty much tentacle porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takinganotherstep/pseuds/Takinganotherstep
Summary: As it turns out, people are much different when caught off guard.A fact that HABIT learns the hard way still applies to himself, regardless of how in control of his situation he thinks he is.





	Caught Off Guard

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: Noncon, Degradation, Choking, General bodily harm (bruising in this case), very slight suggestion of sub-space (I guess, idk) if that's not your cup of tea.
> 
> A.N: Holy shit. I wrote the original almost 4 years ago, if not more. I'm horrified by my old writing style. I'm full of regret. I had to re-write this. I had to.

The space between dreaming and awake is an odd place to exist in.  
Shadows swirl around his legs, sirens sounding somewhere in the distance, the feeling of a hand against the back of his neck- cold enough to raise goosebumps on his arms.

HABIT rolls onto his back and tucks himself farther into the comforter atop him; face pulling itself into an unconscious scowl as the feeling of cold around him began to pull him out of the comfortable sleep he had found himself in.  
Despite the warmth beneath the covers the room around him felt absolutely freezing, the air cold enough to make him light headed in just a few seconds of breath it in.

The cold brings with it a feeling of something else, an unease that follows HABIT out of the dream-like, drowsy state he had awoken in, and slams him into wakefulness with both hands.  
His tired brain had caught on a moment to late.  
Fingers dig themselves into one of his forearms, and suddenly he was all to aware of the pressure on his lower stomach, pushing the air from his vessel's lungs and furthering the double-visioned lightheadedness the cold had brought with it.

Everything happened in a millisecond, far to quickly for him to lash out or divorce himself from the situation in line with his currently screaming instincts- a drive kicked into overdrive with the stark realization that *something was in his house*.  
White eyes and dark skin fill his vision as a pair of lanky fingers brush a lock of hair away from his forehead and dig into the skin with overgrown nails.  
A whirlwind of feelings follows that knocks the remaining air and subsequent consciousness from his body- the worst combination of falling and being bound that HABIT could imagine existed.

A brief laugh was the only signal as to who he would be seeing upon waking up, barely gracing his ears before he's limp against the bed and entirely unconscious all over again.  
\---  
God, it was cold...

That was the first coherent thought that HABIT could string together as his eyes flutter open, brain sluggishly tripping back into activity- starting first with accessing his own form, followed quickly by figuring out where the fuck he was exactly.

A few things came to him in a sequence, even through the static buzz in his head, and the ping ponging thoughts that refused to stay still a few things stood out.

First: He felt fucking terrible. Like he'd woken up from an impromptu nap -which he supposes after a moment that he did-, mouth cottony and body aching everywhere.  
Secondly: He couldn't see a thing. Something cold and dark was snaked around his head, covering his eyes and pressing against the bridge of his nose enough to be annoying and awkward.  
Thirdly, and most importantly: He was pinned.  
To what exactly he was unsure, but he was horizontal and spread-eagle against a surface that was really starting to bother his back.

He arches his body cautiously, testing each of the the restraints around his limbs and frowning as he found they tightened in tandem with his movements, pulling him back down when he relaxes again.  
Swallowing the lump rising in his throat his teeth pull absentmindedly at his bottom lip, smothering his discomfort with as much bravado he can muster in his current situation and straining his ears to see if he could hear anything

"Comfortable?"

The voice sounds in barely a whisper, calm and steady with an agonizing hint of humor tinting the words that only serves to ignite a spark of anger deep in the pit of HABIT's stomach.  
Rage swirls like a cloud of smoke behind his lips, but sense and a rising sense of the stakes of the situation keeps the barrage of hateful, senseless words from spewing forth out of his mouth.

"I hope you understand why you're with me right now instead of back home-” There was a scoff. “-passed out like an idiot.”

The voice goes quiet as a presence snakes its way to HABIT's side, bringing with it a burning gaze that travels its way down the expanse of the demon's body.  
The action left him feeling a bit more exposed beneath the sudden judgement, direct and obvious observation.

Silence rules the air for a few moments before the presence speaks again, shifting like smoke to settle full weight onto HABIT's lap.  
Finally, with an irriating slowness the pressure around his head dissipates and his vision comes into focus- sight dim but immediately filled with a beaming, cocky expression.

"Silent treatment?-" The figure cocks his head, smile stretching to impossible lengths as it spoke. "-Really? I expected more from you, HABIT! I really did."

Something in the particular statement struck an immediate nerve, and as bile rose to the back of his throat suddenly HABIT couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Fuck you, Observer." The snapping words escape his throat before he can think about it, the name at the end falling bitter on his tongue, something in his brain sluggishly clicking regarding hypocrisy or something of the sort.

The man in question pauses, the bright, now triumph glazed smile doesn't fade.  
Instead he laughs, leaning forward to brace his hands against HABIT's chest and landing himself face to face with his captive, all but flaunting his self-imposed victory.

"Oh! It speaks! How nice." He croons, the words oozing out from between clenched teeth, all but dripping with confidence and even more of hidden anger. “Took you long enough”

Observer backs away, just enough to allow a part of HABIT's space back to himself. He perks up slightly, tilting his head to the side as the entity lets out a quiet sigh of what seems to be relief.  
Oh, that's not going to last very long at all.

The darkness of the room shift and HABIT draws a quiet breath, dilated eyes focusing on the shapes as they finally began to define themselves against the shadows.  
He hadn't been taken from his room, but somehow the concept of being held hostage in his own room made the entire situation so, so much worse.  
Tendrils formed from the fading gloom, stuttering in and out of existence in his line of sight for a moment before settling completely, squirming and writhing amongst themselves and prompting HABIT to draw back like a dog that had been kicked -pulling gently at the constrictions around his limbs, hoping to find a weakness in their hold without drawing to much attention to himself.  
Either way, judging by the dull ache beginning to thrum in his wrists, there were going to be bruises when this was all said and done.

"Don’t bother.” Observer’s voice is horribly nonchalant as he shifts his position, drawing his knees up to place a foot on either side of HABIT’s torso and planting the rest of his weight onto his lower stomach. “I’d rather you didn’t work yourself up into a tizzy over a conversation.”

HABIT falls limp, flexing his fingers and tapping them idly against the back of his cuffs to regain the feeling in his digits.  
His eyes fall back to the tendrils surrounding the bed, mentally counting out the individual shapes with a growing pit in his stomach as if he could somehow distract himself by drawing himself further into the situation. He wanted so, so fucking badly to say something, but nothing in the variety of his racing thoughts felt right enough considering the situation. Son of a bitch...

"You assisted in taking away my favorite plaything... And I don't take to kindly to outsiders interfering in my personal business."

Observer leans back, bracing a hand against the bed and brushing the free hand against HABIT's lower stomach, simple midriff where the demon's shirt had ridden up.  
Suddenly, HABIT was beginning to regret his struggling.

"This is a professional warning, HABIT. And I'm honestly ready to keep it as just a warning, neither of us are in much of a position to fight one another, are we?-" The hand moves from HABIT's stomach and motions to the tentacles around them. "-Many against one isn't much of a fair fight."

The room snapped into focus in a millisecond, darkened shadows falling away from the edges, but the room was left dim and the remaining loomed precariously around the bed.  
HABIT could faintly make out the outline of his room, details blurred but there.  
His limbs were still pinned, the grip on his wrists having loosened a bit but the tightness around his ankles remained the same, keeping him pulled against what was now his bed.

"Any more infringements will make this much. less. of. a. warning. But..." Observer laughs under his breath, watching as HABIT freezes- all fidgeting and twitching ceasing in barely a second of time.

The world dips back down into the void of stillness for a moment and HABIT swallowed the bile rising in his throat alongside the urge to vomit. Thoughts scattered, stomach flipping.  
Rope-like tendrils moved underneath his clothing, disgustingly hot and slick against his skin.  
Several curl around his midsection, others stay where they are, poking and prodding.  
The panic only doubles as they make their way upwards, two in particular braiding together and looping harsh around his neck, causing his breath to stutter and almost halt entirely.

"From what I've seen, you wouldn't mind to much!"

A cold laugh cued his slip back into the dim light of his room.  
Everything that had come with the dark remained in place however.  
The suffocating grip around his throat sent his head spinning, vision blurring as he glared down his nose at Observer's silhouette- only managing to make the growing ache in his head even worse.

"Oh dear...-” HABIT can practically hear the smug smile in Observer's voice and he’s so angry that his dimming vision goes red for a split second. “I forgot to tell you!" 

"I’ve been paying very close attention over these last few months… For someone who seems so invested in himself, you really do make a ton of foolish mistakes. Figuring out how to get into your little universe here was boringly easy. You don't pay enough attention to your surroundings."

A series of growls stutter through HABIT's clenched teeth as the grip around his throat relents, allowing him a handful of shuddering breaths to catch his racing heart and re-arange his thoughts, to calm down and stone-face his way through this situation and plan for later...  
He might be stubborn, but he isn't stupid. Self-preservation above pride.  
Though he supposes that's been his mind's effort throughout this encounter...

And he's quick to realize that this was not the reaction Observer was pushing for.

The tendrils looped around his body twitch for a moment before suddenly tightening their grip to a bruising degree, and HABIT  
His ankles sink into the mattress, back cresting and a shout bubbling behind his lips, muffled but still obvious.  
And then everything was gone a moment, leaving him to fall back against the mattress, body limp and eyes shooting daggers into the insides of his eyelids.

"Oh.-" HABIT can practically feel the roll of Observer's eyes from behind his glasses, the disgusted tone clinging hard to the syllable. "-Well. That explains what Firebrand sees in you. Birds of a disgusting-lack-of-standards feather, I suppose."

The barely clocked insult falls on deaf ears as HABIT flexes his fingers in a mediocre attempt to distract himself, counting the seconds under his breath and realizing tiredly that his hands were becoming coldly numb.

“Though, I do wonder…”

Suddenly, the air supply is missing again and HABIT’s body breaks out in a small series of shudders as his lungs burn, feeling as if they’re about to collapse at any moment.

Thoughts and feelings swirled in with sensation, leaving him open mouthed and struggling for a breath, a wheezing noise accompanying a line of drool spilling over the corner of his lips.

Observer is absolutely beaming, snickering from behind widely bared teeth as the tendrils relinquish their grip slightly and leave HABIT taking in near desperate lungfuls of air.

“See, I would have guessed someone like you would get off on doing things like this to others.”

HABIT can barely focus on the words, all his mind can really grasp is the tone. The sluggish sort of smoke that had invaded his brain was familiar in a way he couldn’t place. Every edge dulled. Every breath warm and heavy, a stark contrast to the freezing coils around his body.

“But, if those wonderful videos that brought me here tell me anything: The position of giver versus receiver means jackshit to you, right?”

The grip around his body shifts again and HABIT goes entirely still.  
One of the tendrils that had been content simply wrapped around his waist had seemingly decided it was no longer going to stay where it was, making a slow but obvious descent under the waistband of his pants.  
Suddenly, he was all to aware of the sensation growing underneath his skin, a burning sort of itch barely contained within the confines of his vessel.

He hadn’t noticed his own shadows interlacing with the void around him, brilliant violet and golden streaks of energy settling across the darkness like paint.  
In the same way he hadn’t noticed the physical consequences of this encounter, his cock tenting the fabric of his sweatpants in a way that was achingly uncomfortable now that he’d noticed it.  
Oh no… No fucking way in hell.

HABIT is struck with the realization that he’d gone commando mere milliseconds before the tendril makes contact, wrapping around his neglected member with agonizing slowness.  
The bolt of pleasure is to much to bare, screaming up his spine and a series of unhindered curses spill from him tongue.

“This is how it always goes. The moment someone gets the upper hand you’re no better then the people you do this sort of thing to.”

The mocking is maddening.

HABIT squeezes his eyes shut for a moment just to escape Observer’s gaze , body twisting and contorting as he attempts to hide his face in the crook of one of his arms, a feeling of disgust starting to creep its way across his skin.  
His entire form seizes as the tendril starts to move, setting a slow, languid pace with far to much pressure for him to ignore.  
He chokes, back arching and teeth biting down on the fabric of his sleeve.

Observer moves forward, resting his elbows on HABIT’s chest, body language far to casual for everything currently happening.  
HABIT manages to peak out from behind his eyelids at the man’s expression, his own face contorting into a nearly animalistic snarl.  
And the smile that meets him is softer then all the others he had seen throughout this entire encounter.

That simple thing… Throws a wrench into the last of HABIT’s working sanity.  
His head dips slightly and his teeth sink into the skin of his arm, canines digging in harsh enough to draw blood, heart pounding and heart pounding. Incoherent mumbling creeping out from between his clenched teeth and into the air.

Smile soft, Observer laughs under his breath and takes in the sight, prideful of his work.  
Eyes half-lidded, blood and drool slipping down the corner of his mouth, face red and pulled into a look painted with lust and pain and something… Distinctly HABIT.

... Time to up the ante a bit.

HABIT jumps and curls his toes into the sheets beneath him as the pressure against his neck returns, prompting sudden bolts of pain from previously numbed bruises.  
His teeth fall away from bloodied skin and his head tips back slightly, eyes shying away from Observer’s own burning stare.  
The actions give way to a small increase in what seems to be gentleness on Observer’s part, a praising croon leaving his lips that was all buy glazed over as he sighs and speaks up again.

“I’m honestly not surprised by this, HABIT. You love to separate yourself from the people that you torture. Project yourself as so much better than them. So much more in control…”

Sneering to himself HABIT manages a brief look of disgust before his mind is put back on silent, the movements around his cock picking up speed.  
A knot of tension and heat is building in the pit of his stomach, drawing a whine from low in his throat like a plea.  
Darkness is starting to encroach on his vision and his entire body is almost shaking apart at the seams, screaming for air and release in equal measure.

“But when you get right down to it.-” Observer laughs and moves a hand to cup HABIT’s cheek, massaging slow circles with the pad of his thumb. “You’re just as much a filthy, pathetic whore as the rest of us.”

That’s all that HABIT needs.  
Body tensing and back arching, the frustration and tension that had built up over this entire situation finally snapped, leaving his vision blank for a few flickering moments as he finally came - hips rolling in a desperate attempt to keep the sensation going.

Observer sits up, watching the man beneath him twitch and shudder as the tendrils around his neck loosen and begin their slow retreat.  
Every intricacy is jotted down in the back of Observer’s mind, an absolute dream to witness.

Everything is over far to quickly at this point, the grip around his body uncoiling completely.  
HABIT falls limp against his mattress, skin sticky and cold with drying sweat, mind foggy and quiet.  
He focuses his eyes on Observer, and despite the half-lidded stare the anger is obvious… But his tongue feels to much like mud in his mouth to say anything.  
His mind is whispering, quiet tantalizing words to play dead. Go back to sleep. Recuperate.  
And for a moment his body doesn’t seem to have a choice, sinking down… Down…

A laugh and the weight retreating from his midsection allows him to float back up, half asleep and shaking.  
Fingers brush the bruising along his neck and Observer’s smile cuts its way through the darkness.

“Sorry to leave so soon, but I have better places to be.” He pauses, adjusting his glasses slightly with his free hand as HABIT’s eyelids flicker and fall.

“Say hello to Firebrand for me, would you?”


End file.
